


Dark Hour, Dark Room

by Dirac_Lotus



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game), Persona 3
Genre: AU - Persona, Abuse, Angst, Blood, Character Study, Dark Room, Depression, Drug Use, Multi, Platonic Chasescott, Psychology, Shadows - Freeform, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Suicide, persona - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-19 11:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4744292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirac_Lotus/pseuds/Dirac_Lotus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dark Hour has come to Arcadia Bay. Max uncovers her powers of Persona with a little prompting and joins forces with Nathan and Victoria to find the cause of the disturbances in town, as well as uncovering the truth behind Rachel Amber's death and</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will take a lot of the story elements of Persona 3 and give them a Life is Strange flair, namely the characters and interactions. There were just too many similarities between the Persona Games and LiS that I couldn't not write some crossover. It will involve a lot of character analysis, angst, (hopefully) depression and of course shipping. Will most likely end up as a poly-ship, but the ones tagged will be the main ones. They may take a while to come to fruition though!

“I just put it to my h-head, and pull the trigger. Easy. Just point, and click.” Nathan muttered, pacing back and forth by the bathroom mirrors. Max could hear him from her hiding spot behind the cubicles, wondering what the hell Nathan was doing in the girls’ toilets. Thankfully the creep hadn’t seen her yet, neatly concealed as she was. She’d only stopped to take a photo of a butterfly, and that iridescent beauty came with an astounding sense of timing.

  


Nathan paced back and forth by the mirrors, muttering something incoherent under his breath. Max toyed with the idea of coming out and giving him a bollocking for being here, but something felt… wrong, to her. And it would be an insult to throw away her good fortune offered by the butterfly.

  


The door swung open again, louder this time and accompanied by the echo of heavy boots.

  


“Look-” began Nathan.

  


“Can it, Prescott,” the intruder cut him off. “I assume you checked the perimeter?”

  


Max heard the sounds of the cubicles doors being thrown open in turn, as though being checked. She froze with fear. She wasn’t exactly well hidden, and any minute now that new person would come face to face with her crouching in a corner, like a voyeur with her camera. She was too wary to poke her head round to check out this newcomer, but something about her voice sounded familiar. And warm. Harsh, but warm.

  


“I’m not some rookie, bitch. I’ve been at this longer than you have.”

  


“I’m not  at anything, Nathan. I’m not playing your game.”

  


“Then you’re going to die, idiot. This isn’t a game anymore, this is real shit.” Nathan’s voice grew more and more agitated, and nervous. “Why the fuck are you even here? If you won’t listen I got nothing for you.”

  


“Wrong. You got hella cash.”

  


The statement earnt a malicious chuckle from Prescott. He seemed more amused than offended, if anything. “That’s my family, not me, moron. Like I said, I got nothing for you, and if you think you’re gonna blackmail me for-”

  


“Damn straight I’m gonna blackmail you. I’m going to take every last penny you got, or everyone’s going to know what a bitch-ass little pervert the golden Prescott child-” A loud slam interrupted her again, cutting her threats short. Almost immediately the girl started panting, scared. “Wh-where’d you get that?”

  


“Eat shit, bitch. I look forward to reading your obituary. My father  owns  this town, and if you try anything funny we’re gonna drive your pretty little punk face into the ground!” Nathan’s voice grew louder as he ramped up the volume and threats, clearly getting pissed off.  “Now get out of my face before I do something we both regret.”     

There was a pained pause that seemed to last eons as the intruder weighed up her options. Unable to see what was happening, Max could only guess as to what was going on around there. She had her eye trained on the emergency alarm should she need it though.  She had a feeling Nathan was packing some sort of shank, and had no doubts that he’d use it. She weighed with baited breath as the girl finally made her decision, spat, and stormed out; ranting about spoilt rich kids and their coffin fetishes. Once she’d disappeared, Nathan let out a sigh, which had Max known better, she would have called disappointed.

  


Max poked her head very carefully from around the cubicle to check the coast was clear. Instead, she came face to face with the Prescott himself - and he was looking right at her.

  


“Enjoy the show?” He sneered. 

  


It was at that point that Max realized what Nathan was armed with, and it was no switchblade. He held an honest-to-god revolver, and it just oozed decadent poshness. He grasped it tightly, finger on the trigger without a care in the world as to safety as he flailed the gun around with his erratic movements. Max nearly ran for the alarm then and there, but fear kept her pinned.

  


Clearly sensing her discomfort, Nathan spoke up. 

  


“Relax,” he sighed. “It’s not even loaded.”

  


To demonstrate this, he pulled the trigger a few times. It clicked loudly a few times, with Nathan wincing each time. This calmed Max somewhat, though she was still wary of the unstable asshole.

  


Instead of asking who the hell carries an empty gun to school, Max opted for the (only slightly) more sensible option of standing her ground and telling the Prescott boy that he was in the wrong bathroom.

  


He rolled his eyes in response, and tucked the gun into his belt, somehow concealing it beneath his shirt. ”You better keep your smart-ass mouth shut about this. Snitches get stitches, bitches.”

  


Max stifled a chortle. She had a hard time taking Nathan and his attitude seriously at the best of times, and the current lack of ammo wasn’t helping. She resigned herself instead to staring him down, drawing on some hidden reserve of courage she had no idea existed. It didn’t take long for her to win out, and Nathan left with as much grace as he could manage, clearly not wanting to hang around much longer. 

  


The butterfly took the opportunity to fly out the bathroom door, trailing behind Nathan. Max took a moment to collect herself and steady her nerves, and try to process what the fuck just happened. She took a selfie of the moment for prosperity's sake, and splashed water on her face for a second time. She considered telling someone about what just happened, but figured it not worth the grief. If Nathan was carrying around an empty gun, fuck him. He’ll get himself into trouble in no time, and not even his family name can cover up something like that. At least he won’t be shooting anyone.

  


\---

  


Half an hour till midnight. Max was still fully dressed and wide awake, having decided to commit to a late-night photo shoot of the campus.  The events of earlier had triggered some innate wanderlust in her, and she really did need a photo for the ‘Everyday Heroes’ contest. So what better place than campus at night? Sure it meant sneaking around past curfew, but it’s not like people didn’t do it all the time. She wasn’t exactly naive or blind to the various boys and girls she’d seen sneaking out her dorm in the early hours of the morning.

  


So with her trusty camera in tow, she slung her messenger bag over her shoulder and cracked the window open. She stopped for a moment to water Lisa, lest unfortunate consequences occur from her starving her plant, and climbed out the window.

  


The air was chilly and still, the sky clear and starry. Max pulled her hoodie tight around her with her free hand and headed for the campus proper. She didn’t exactly have much of a plan, other than to just wander around, not get caught and wait for art to happen.

  


It was around the time that the clock struck midnight that she got the opportunity she was looking for.

  


She stood behind the artwork of Mr Jefferson, using the posters as cover as she moved across the campus. There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere, and the already cold air bit harder - despite the utter lack of a breeze. It was still, and freezing. Almost space-like.

  


What first caught her eye was the moon. It was massive. At least twice as big as its usual size, and an ominous shade of green. It added a tint of oppression to similarly green-hued night sky, with its psychedelic shifting clouds that seemed to have sprung out of nowhere. She was amazed she hadn’t noticed any of this before. 

  


Max quickly whipped up her polaroid and snagged a few shots of the moon, awestruck by this phenomena. If anything, Warren would explode with delight when she showed him the photos. Though she seriously doubted he wasn’t already clued in on this - he always knew when all the best cool shit was going down.

  


The next thing Max saw caused her to freeze in her tracks, and seriously question her sanity.

  


Pressed up against a lone tree by the road, the one with the “stood two coffins. Honest-to-god, bury-your-loved-ones coffins. They were bland and featureless; plain grey wood, with no visible lid, hinge or anything to suggest an opening. Admittedly she was keeping her distance, so couldn’t be sure, but it was as though someone had propped up two coffin-shaped hunks of wood as a prank.

  


Prank or no, this was going to make for one hell of a shot. 

  


Cautiously, and keeping an eye out for hidden cameras and the likes, Max made her way towards them, camera raised.

  


“Surprise bitch.”

  


Max jumped, whirling to face her accuser and damn-near dropping her camera. The voice was painfully familiar, and she was none-too-pleased with its owner.

  


Nathan.

  


“Of course it would be the selfie-ho of Blackwell next on the hitlist. And here I thought they’d be hot.”

  


And Victoria.

  


Well this was fucking brilliant.

  


Max shied away from the pair, who seemed to have sprang out of nowhere. Nathan was busy waving around his gun to emphasize every word, which Max prayed still wasn’t loaded. But more disturbingly was the fact that Victoria had an almost identical gun, which she bore in a stylishly-studded holster. 

  


The pair clearly saw her eyes fixate on the guns, so Nathan did his best to put her at ease by reassuring her that A. neither of them were loaded, and B. that no-one was around to hear her should she scream. The latter of which did not go down so well.

  


“So… have you seen the moon? Or those coffins?” Max managed to pluck up the courage to ask the two of them.

  


Victoria sneered with contempt and turned her back to her, eyes lazily scanning the horizon. Neither of the two seemed particularly fazed with the current situation, nor the coffins or the brazenness with which they were waving around guns on campus.

  


“You got a watch?” Nathan asked, completely ignoring Max’s inquiries. “Or a phone or something?” 

  


“Sure…” Max responded with more than a hint of mistrust. “It’s past midnight.”

  


“Check it.” the Prescott insisted.

  


Max rolled her eyes, but complied. She took the phone from her bag and checked the time listed.

  


00:00

  


Huh.  She could have sworn it went midnight a while ago. “Strange.”

  


“We call it the Dark Hour,” Victoria deigned to join the conversation. “That undefined period of time between the days, witnessed by only a select few of us elites.” 

  


There was something about the way in which she held that gun and tapped her foot that Max just wanted to capture in film and frame...

  


Bad Max,  she scolded herself. Here were a pair of armed snobs spouting nonsense and all she could think about was how pretty they all looked in the creepy moonlight. Victoria started to continue, but Nathan gave a helpful summary to cut the conversation short.

  


“You’re special now. Congratufuckinglations. Now you can either come with us to somewhere safe or die out here with that blue bitch friend of yours.

  


“Blue bitch?” Max raised an eyebrow, asking the only sensible thing she could think of.

  


“Fuck her-” cut in Victoria. “Quite frankly I’m amazed we’re still even having this conversation. We need to get her to the Dark Room before the Shadows get to her.”

  


Shadows. Coffins. Dark Hours. Max knew Nathan was taking some serious meds, but this really took the cake. What’s worse was that Victoria was in on this fantasy… and that it actually seemed to have some form of truth to it.

  


“Too late.” Was all Nathan said, before Max screamed in abject terror as he pulled the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger with barely a moment’s hesitation.

  


“Persona,” he uttered.

  


Max knew the gun wasn’t loaded. But she didn’t expect it to fire so loudly. Nor did she expect to see Nathan’s head explode in a shower of blue shards and butterflies, not unlike the one she’d seen earlier. Nor did she expect to see a naked man materialize in an explosion of blood a mere few feet in front of her. She cried out again on realizing she’d been caught in the splatter, and found it strange how Victoria couldn’t seem to give a shit about the blood on her cashmere.

  


Max ended up snapping a photo of the naked man out of her keen photographers reflex - a reflex to photograph the unusual, not the nude.  Just to be clear.

  


The man stood about seven feet in height, and seemed to float a few inches above the ground. He wore nothing, though blood coated him like clothes. Max soon realized that this blood was flowing from numerous wide gashes all along his wrists, thighs and stomach. The wounds seemed to mainly be along the left side of the body, which pretty much cemented their origins as self-inflicted. Max wanted more than nothing but to look away, but couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. 

  


Nathan seemed to be in a trance-like state, brow furrowed in concentration as his gaze followed this man’s every move. He reached out a hand, and blood curdled and coiled around the naked man’s arm, spewing harder from the opening in his wrist. It coagulated into the form of a sword - a katana, to be precise. And that that was when Max figured she needed some of whatever meds Nathan was on. This was just too… bizarre.

  


It still made for a cool shot though.

  


“Max, Martyr. Martyr, Max. That’s Nate’s Persona.” Victoria clarified, noting Max’s utter confusion. “Look... ‘Mad Max’. I really need you to stay with me right now, okay? I’ll explain everything later, but for now I need you to trust me, and to focus on not dying. Think you can manage that?”

  


Trust Victoria. Every fiber of Max’s being wanted to scream NO - fuck off. Every fiber but one, that is. One seemed more than happy to be bossed around by her, if only because there were no other sensible choices anymore. She nodded, and was immediately pulled by the arm by Victoria to the road.

  


Max could now see why the pair were so anxious, having now come face to face with what she presumed were these ‘shadows’. About half a dozen floating balls came into view, each as big a beach ball and just as brightly-coloured. Only unlike beach balls these things bore several-meter long tongues and two mean circular rows of teeth. They were seemed alive, as they floated towards her with a ravenous hunger and slavering jaw to match. She was amazed at how they could see though, being as they had no eyes to speak of.

  


And then Nathan raised an arm once more, and the naked man, ‘Martyr’, leapt into action. His Persona spun the blade of blood about in its hand, cleaving down the first two shadows in a single strike. Black ichor splattered the ground, which Max was careful enough to dodge this time.

  


The remaining four didn’t put up much more of a fight either. Martyr swung one of the corpses by the tongue to take down a third one, headbutted a fourth and impaled the final two on the end of its sword. It wasn’t the cleanest of executions, but Max was more than grateful for Martyr’s presence.

  


By now Victoria had Max’s hand grasped firmly in hers, and the three of them were headed straight for the boys’ dorm. Nathan’s Persona fluttered about them impatiently, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Max briefly felt sorry for Samuel and having to clean all this mess up, before realizing she’d rather not think about all the blood.

  


When they reached the dorms, Max found herself rather forcefully shoved aside in a heroic gesture by Victoria. A massive pool of black ichor was gathering in front of them, between the trio and their destination. A lone blue mask floated about in this pool, emblazoned with a roman numeral ‘I’. 

  


Two large clawed hands emerged and propelled themselves outwards on tendrils of blackness.

The first claw missed Max, thanks to Victoria’s quick thinking. The second one hit Nathan square in the stomach, causing him to reel with the blow and his Persona to mimic him in turn. 

  


Nathan recovered quickly, and clenched a fist. Martyr swung down with his sword of blood, exploding into shards as it collided with its target. Both Persona and user grinned as one as the shards exploded like shrapnel, and proceeded to burrow their way into their target. The Shadow screamed in pain and flailed about.

  


Then the claws struck again. The first one caught Nathan on the hip, knocking him off balance, but nothing more. The second one caught him straight in the head, hitting him square in the left eye and cleaving his face open down to the jaw. The result was ugly, messy, and bile-inducing. At once Martyr vanished from view, and Victoria made her way to Nathan as he collapsed to the floor.

  


“Nate!”

  


Max took a step backwards. She could run. It’d be easy enough. Leave Victoria to fend it off and get back to her dorm. Victoria had a gun, right? So surely she could summon one of those Personas too.

  


But she couldn’t leave. Something within her urged her to stay, to protect these two and to pick up the gun herself. It was right there, next to Nathan’s unconscious form. Something urged her to  fight.

  


“Come on Vic. You can do this,” she heard Victoria whispering to herself. “I just put the gun to my head, and pull the trigger. Gun to my head, pull the trigger.”

  


Max could see the Queen of Blackwell trembling from where she stood. She was having a hard enough time even raising the gun to her head, let alone pulling the trigger. If she didn’t do something, and fast, that Shadow was going to strike again.

  


It was now or never.

  


Max made her way to Nathan, and picked up the gun. 

  


I am thou. 

  


A voice rang out in her head. She raised the gun to her temple.

  


And thou, art I.

  


“Persona.”

  


She fired.


	2. Unfamiliar Ceiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max awakens in the Dark Room. A little past is revealed, immediate plans are formed.

The first thing Max awoke to was sheer white and the headache of the century. She raised a hand to somehow fend off the incoming light, but she was having a hard time seeing anything. Her ears were ringing like hell too, though she could just about make out the voice of Victoria. She wiggled her toes, then her fingers, and came to the happy conclusion that nothing was broken, and that she wasn’t bound.

 

After adjusting to the barbaric brightness, Max came to realize that she was… somewhere she had no idea. She was on a hospital bed - one of two. Nathan was on the other one, looking in a bad way. His head was bruised and swollen, and a large gash ran down his face. He seemed zonked out on painkillers right now. For the first time since she’d met him he actually looked peaceful for a change, despite the injuries. The nearby tray of medical supplies and sterile environment supported the notion that she was in some sort of medical facility, but the ridiculously expensive photography gear said otherwise. There were figures in the distance, hiding behind the light.

 

There was a bright flash of light, and a click.

 

Was somebody taking her picture?

 

She did her best to sit upright, propping herself with her hands. A voice and a pair of hands immediately rushed to her aid. Victoria.

 

“Whoa- easy there Mad Max.”

 

Click. Another flash.

 

A gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder, helping to support her. It was Victoria, looking as resplendent as always. She was thankfully positioned between herself and one of the light sources, giving her eyes some relief. She looked like an angel with a halo of light, from where she was sitting.

 

Click.

 

“Shoulda figured you for a Hermit,” Victoria smiled. It was… strangely warm, Max noticed. “Can you stand?”

 

Max nodded, eager to get out of the setup. Aided by Victoria, she stood and slowly made her way away. She felt horribly weak and wobbly, like she’d just swam a thousand lengths

 

Click.

 

“What happened?” she managed to ask. “How long was I out?”

 

“Like, a day, I guess? Not too bad really. Mark sat by me for three days solid before I woke up when they first found me. He looked like a zombie sitting by my bed with his camera.”

 

“Mark?”

 

Wait.

 

Camera. That equipment.

 

There was a final click, and the lights went out, reverting to the much more gentle strip lighting from above. Max could see the place for what it was now - a bunker, converted into a photo studio, converted into a sick bay computer lab hybrid. There was enough food and water to outlast the apocalypse, and the room was practically set up to photograph whoever was on the beds.

 

And then there was Mister Jefferson. Standing in what she assumed to be the command centre, operating computers and cameras like a spider spins a web. He looked different to usual. More sincere. More… dark.

 

“Good to see you Max.”

 

Max opened her mouth to say something, but words failed her. Strange fucking week. She had more than ample questions right now, but all she ended up saying was simply: “You too.”

 

He chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “Victoria, would you be so kind as fetch our guest her belongings? Please, take your time.”

 

“Sure thing,” Victoria nodded, catching the hint, before heading out through the plastic curtain.

 

Once she was safely distanced, Jefferson offered the still-confused Maxine a chair.

 

“So,” he leaned towards her, taking out a pen and notepad. “Tell me what you remember.”

 

Straight down to business. Right. Just pretend like he’s a doctor. Don’t lie. I mean, maybe you are crazy. But then he’ll be able to tell and help. Right?

 

Right?  


Max shuffled uncomfortably. “Umm, okay. So. I was out past curfew. I wanted to get a good shot for the Everyday Heroes contest, seeing as how my teacher keeps breathing down my neck about it…”

 

She chuckled nervously. No reaction. Was this even the same Jefferson?

 

“And then I saw Victoria, and Nathan. They had guns. And there were some coffins leaning against a tree for some reason. Then these Shadow-things came at as. Nathan shot himself and this creepy-ass bloody ‘Martyr’ appeared out of nowhere.”

 

He raised an eyebrow, imploring her to continue.

 

“Err, anyway. It was horrible. There was blood everywhere, and a sword. Made of blood. Then there was a load of fighting, we ran, back to the dorms. Then this shadow got in our way. It was much, much bigger than the others. And hit Nathan… bad. Then Victoria tried to shoot herself, but couldn’t. She was like, shaking really bad.”

 

“Trust her to dress up the situation,” Jefferson smiled wryly. “Continue.”

 

Was that warmth?

 

“Then I heard this voice in my head, and I felt my body moving. I don’t even know if it was voluntary or not. But I picked up Nathan’s gun and… and…”

 

“Shot yourself?” he offered tactlessly.

 

“Yeah. I thought I died. There was this explosion of light, and my head felt like it set fire. Then I woke up here.”

 

“Just like that?” he inquired. “You picked up the gun, and shot yourself. In the head, no questions asked? Why?”

 

Not warmth. Curiosity.

 

“I dunno. I guess I just saw Nathan do it, and assumed I could too. And the voice was urging me to, and it was a pretty weird day, so I figured I probably should. Or I’d end up like Nathan…”

 

“You evoked.”

 

“Y-yeah. I guess. But that’s the last thing I remember. Then it’s just… waking up here, having pictures taken of me.”

 

Jefferson nodded, maintaining his best poker face as if this were just another day in the office. Which Max realized, it probably was.

 

“Max. Thank you, for sharing. Now I’m sure you have many questions-”

 

“Yeah, actually,” Max interrupted, but was cut off herself.

 

“-most of which will be answered in due time. For now however I need you to go with Ms Chase and help her talk to someone much like yourself, before the next Dark Hour. She’ll explain on the way, and I promise you that when you come back I will do my best to fill you, and the others, in on as much as I can.”

 

“What makes you think I can even help? It’s not exactly like I can explain anything to her.”

 

“Just trust me, Max. This isn’t the world of art, and this isn’t a game. People die. Especially if we don’t get to them in time. This girl is trouble. But whether she likes it or not she will die without us.”

 

“Time to be an everyday hero,” Victoria offered, returning with Max’s things. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

 

She duly handed Max her things. She immediately checked her camera was working, which it was, and carefully placed it back in her bag. When she did so, her fingers brushed against something cold, hard and metallic that sure as hell wasn’t there before.

 

No way…

 

She took it out. It was a gun, the same make and look as the one carried by Victoria. Clearly noting her disapproval, Jefferson reassured her.

 

“Don’t worry Max, it’s not loaded. Nor can it ever be. This is your evoker. Should you need to during the Dark Hour, and the Dark Hour alone, you can use this to call forth your Persona. Just put the gun to your head, and pull the trigger.”

 

She turned the gun over in her hands, examining it. This is so fucked up.

 

“I know Max,” Victoria said, as though reading her mind. “It… it takes some getting used to. But you’re pretty badass. You’ll be fine.”

 

A gun. Creepy Jefferson. Now praise from Victoria. Hell of a fucking day.

 

“If you’d be so kind as to lead Ms Caulfield to the junkyard, Victoria,” Jefferson ordered. “I have some paperwork to file, and a patient to tend to.”

 

“What’s at the junkyard?” Max asked.

 

“A dead girl. That is, if you don’t get to her in time. Just bring her back here, whatever it takes. If you have to drug her, so be it. Ms Chase, help yourself to my cabinet.”

 

“Woah. Wait.” Max stood stunned. “Drug her?”

 

“It’s a last resort,” Victoria told her. “Nate already failed twice. Surviving a night without transmogrifying is hard enough. How she’s lasted more than a week is beyond me.”

 

“Transmowhatnow?”

 

“Normal people turn into coffins during the Dark Hour,” Jefferson answered. “It’s a natural shadow-defence mechanism. Sometimes though, people don’t. So it’s up to us to get to them before the shadows do.”

 

“Right.” Max said, completely lost. At this point, she just was just going with the flow, trusting her teacher. Questions would come later.

 

“I’m going to check on Nate before we leave,” Victoria said. “Just - wait here Max, okay?”

 

Max nodded, keeping her distance as promised. Victoria made her way to the hospital area, took her phone from her pocket, ramped up the volume and clicked the playlist titled ‘Nathan’.

 

The sounds of a dozen whales filled the Dark Room.

 

Max raised an eyebrow, but Victoria shot her a look that promised death should she open her mouth.

 

And then they waited. Several minutes passed with Victoria at Nathan’s bedside and Max hanging awkwardly near the back. Eventually Vic shook his shoulder, ever so gently. He looked almost too peaceful to wake, despite his injuries. But she absolutely had to talk to him. Purely for his comfort, of course. She liked to think she was selfless like that.

 

“Hey Nate.”

 

Nathan’s eyes fluttered open to the gentle prodding of Victoria. There was some strange background sound, which he soon realized to be whale noises playing off of Victoria’s phone. She’d set it up on his bedside table and had it on loop for god-knows how long; long enough for him to wake up, at least.

 

His fingers immediately reached up to his face, tracing the long scar running down it, feeling the puffiness of his eye. He winced in pain, and realization. Victoria’s hand shot out, trying to stop him fiddling with the crudely-stitched wound. There was a wordless exchange, and she reached for a small pocket mirror and held it out to him.

 

He snatched it from her hand with some force, bringing it up to his face to examine his wounds more closely. His lip curled up in frustration, and he flung the mirror across the dark room, crashing into the wall opposite not too far from Max.

 

“Stupid,” he muttered.

 

“Look. This is my fault,” Victoria began. “I… I couldn’t do it. Not after what happened to her.”

 

Nathan scoffed. “You never could. Even when she was around you didn’t have the balls to do it. Gun to your head, pull the trigger. Easy. Even that twee-hipster dipshit managed it.” He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to control the rising anger. Victoria just watched, and waited; not once breaking contact with her. Max was eavesdropping, sticking to the back so as to not ruin any potential moment, but no way in hell was she not seeing this.

 

“Tori,” Nathan’s breathing was controlled, almost robotic. “I don’t blame you-”

 

“Yes. You do.”

 

“No. I don’t,” Max saw something in his expression. Was that, resignation? “And I don’t blame Max fucking-Caulfield either. As much as I’d like to.”

 

“Then who?”

 

“Myself.” He sighed. “And Rachel.”

 

Rachel. Is that the missing girl? Max thought. The one with the posters all over campus?

 

“Rachel didn’t hurt you, Nate. She did anything but. You can’t keep blaming her for not being around to patch you up all the time.”  


“She lied to us. To all of us.”

 

Victoria’s voice was stern, yet somehow gentle. “Her Persona turned on her, and *ate* her. No way any of us could have seen that coming.”

 

Max did a double-take, speaking up from her unassuming position from the back.. “Wait, what!?”

 

“Great,” Nathan moaned. “Just who I wanted to see right now.”

 

She took a step forward, the look of panic obvious on her face.

 

“She saved us, Nate,” Victoria said. “We at least owe her a hello.”

 

“Fine. Hi.”

 

Close enough, Max thought. She was close enough now to study Nathan’s wounds in detail, and it was not a pretty sight. She doubted he could even see through one of his eyes, given how swollen it was. The rest of his face was pretty bruised and bloody, yet he still somehow retained that Prescott aura of superiority.

 

“Has this ever happened before?” she found herself asking. “Getting hurt, that is. Not the eating thing. Though that would be good to know too…”

 

Nathan bit his tongue, Victoria’s gentle presence holding back any snide comments. He’d save them for later. “Yes. And no.”

 

“Usually we’d have Rachel patch him up,” Victoria added. “She could practically bring the dead back to life. This’d be fixed no problem.”

 

“Only the bitch went and got herself killed. Now we’re all fucked,” Nathan finished.

 

“What happened to her?” asked Max.

 

Victoria made her way to the empty hospital bed nearby and sat on it, prompting Max to do the same. She sighed, before spilling the story. “It was a routine patrol. The three of us were walking the dorms during Dark Hour, checking for awakees as usual. Same way we found you-”

 

“And that psycho blue bitch,” Nathan added.

 

-anyways.” Victoria straightened her back, frightfully aware of how her failing posture was letting her down. “This Shadow jumps us. ‘No biggie’, we think. Happens all the time. Rachel goes in for the kill; summons her Persona. Same as always. Kills the Shadow no problem. Next thing we know, her own Persona has her pinned to the floor and starts tearing her apart, Evangelion style.”

 

“So we get close. Try to fight it off,” Nathan recounted. “Then we saw it was actually eating her. Its head was in her stomach, and we heard this… this crunching sound. And screaming. There was so much screaming. So much… mess.”

 

“So Nate tries to pull it off her, but he can’t. It’s too strong. Rachel was the best. So was her Persona.”

 

“She was our Star.”

 

It would be cute how they were finishing each other's’ sentences, if not for the content, Max noticed.

 

“And this thing was powered by something primordial,” Victoria continued. “No way we could take it alone. It took down Martyr like it was nothing.”

 

“Then it turns on Tori, still hungry or something. Or mad, maybe. Rachel’s still there, lying and writhing. Still alive.” Nathan was back to clenching and unclenching his fists, reminding himself to be calm and polite. “Why couldn’t she have just died?”

 

“You see, when a Persona User dies, so does their Persona,” Victoria elaborated.

 

“I wasn’t going to let any harm come to Tori,” Nathan ran his tongue across the fronts of his teeth. A nervous habit. “I had to… had to stop it, however I could.”

 

“You don’t mean-” The looks on the pair’s faces finished the story. Max wasn’t the best at subtext, but even she had some skills.

 

Nathan Prescott killed Rachel Amber.

 

Well shit.

 

* * *

 

 

Somewhere, someone crossed Max's name off a list.

 

In its place they wrote 'Arahabaki - Hermit. Success.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided instead to try and update every Sunday to give myself a bit of a deadline, and a bit more motivation. Please poke me on whatever for criticism or whatnot ^_^


	3. I'll Face My Self(ie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Victoria head to the Junkyard to meet Chloe. Treachery may be afoot.

There was something concerning about seeing Victoria behind the wheel of a car. There was something even more concerning about being in that car. In the dead of night, this was Max’s predicament. And she wasn’t even allowed to ride shotgun, because apparently that was Nathan’s seat and him not being here wouldn’t change that.

 

The car ride to the junkyard was spent initially in uncomfortable silence. The only times Max had ever been alone with Victoria she’d been bragging or tormenting her. But now here they were, together, alone and in deep shit.

 

She thought of saying something to try and ease the tension. Some sort of common ground. After a good period of deliberation she ended up blurting out the best thing she could think of.

 

“So I didn’t know you were a closet otaku.”

 

The reaction from Victoria was priceless; a strange mixture of embarrassment and pissed-off. Max thought she might stop the damn car then and there to berate her, but instead she shrugged it off.

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

Ice broken. Good job Max.

 

“It’s just that you referenced Evangelion,” was Max’s response, given in her usual sweet voice whilst she stared at her own two feet. “I didn’t really think that was your scene.”

 

Victoria scoffed. “I do have hobbies besides photography and bossing people about, you know. You can blame Nate for that one. His taste for the macabre transcends all mediums. I’ve seen all the best dark shit.”

 

“Just to be clear,” Max asked, determined to keep the conversation flowing. “Are we talking original or remake?”

 

“Original, obvs. I mean the films are great and all but they don’t quite have the… depth, of the originalw.”

 

Now this was a side of Victoria Max liked. Though she had never actually heard anyone use ‘obvs’ in real conversation, she was willing to overlook that, as much as it pained her. Instead she pried further, discussing and comparing their taste in anime for the duration of the drive to the junkyard. Max found it funny how alike the two were in choosing what they liked. It was almost uncanny.

 

And every now and then, Max would catch Victoria glimpsing at her in the rear-view mirror. The eye contact was brief, but each time Max would give an awkward smile. And Victoria of course would pretend like she was just checking out the back window.

 

It wasn’t until they pulled up near the junkyard and got out of the car that Max finally asked who it was exactly they were meeting. And possibly drugging.

 

“Blue-haired stoner,” was the reply. “Chloe. Chronic pain in the ass.”

 

“Chloe… as in, Chloe Price?” was Max’s response. Surely that’s a coincidence. Not my Chloe. Not pirate Chloe.

 

“Yes.. You know her?” Victoria asked, though the question was redundant - the answer was plastered all over Max’s face.

 

“Know is an understatement.”

 

“Besties?”

 

“Yeah. More like partners in crime. It’s been forever since we spoke though.”

 

Victoria raised a lone eyebrow. Max so wished she could do that too.

 

“What happened?”

 

“I moved. End of story really.”

 

They had entered the junkyard proper now, and were beginning to wander through the piles of scrap. A strange smell lingered in the air, it was a real assault on the nostrils - definately metallic, but also earthy and sweet. Constant sounds of scurrying and moving trash kept the pair on their toes. It was nearly midnight.

 

“We need some light,” said Victoria, taking out her phone. Max was already on it, using her phone's screen as a source of light.

 

A lone gunshot rang through the air.

 

“Max,” Victoria whispered, ducking down and drawing her gun. “Kill the lights.”

 

She did so, similarly crouching and whipping out her evoker. Max didn’t like the way Victoria was making her way towards the sound of the gunfire. In the junkyard. At night.

 

There was no way that’s a good idea. Darwin would be proud.

 

“Victoria, are you trying to get yourself killed?”

 

“Shut the fuck up Max,” she hissed back. “I know what I’m doing. Now you’re not Nathan, but I need you to have my back, okay?”  


“Well thanks for the rousing words of encouragement. So what’s the plan?”

 

“Shut up and follow me. It’s nearly midnight, and these guns are useless until then. So stay the fuck hidden.”

 

Max had the feeling that Nathan was the submissive one in whatever relationship he and Victoria had, if any. She sure knew how to boss people about.

 

But she wasn’t going to lie. She kind of liked it.

 

There was another gunshot. It was close. Dangerously so.

 

Victoria almost immediately blew her cover, standing up and practically marching away. Max soon realized that she’d found the source of the gunshots: Chloe. She was shooting at a row of green bottles lined up on the wall, using a torch to help her aim with. The light from it flicked around as she moved, practising her bad cop routine on an abandoned bucket of paint.

 

When Chloe saw the duo approaching she quickly whipped around, pointing her gun at Victoria. She seemed quite happy to have her at gunpoint.

 

“Chase.”

 

“Price.”

 

There was a standoff. The two girls stood pointing their guns at each other. Victoria held her harmless evoker, Chloe held some form of pistol in one hand, and a torch in the other, pressed up against the barrel of the gun to shine on her target.

 

At first glance Max would never have recognised the bluenette. Everything about her seemed different; her hair, her clothes, her speech, her pissed-off face.

 

But it was still Chloe. Max held no doubt about that.

 

“Caulfield.” Max interjected, stepping between the girls.

 

The look on Chloe’s face went from annoyed, to surprised, then back to annoyed.

 

“Max!?”

 

“Hi Chloe…” Max said sheepishly, waiting for her to lower her gun.

 

“Long time no see,” Chloe still held her gun to point at Victoria. “So what? Back in Arcadia Bay after all these years. No time for your best friend but you’re free to go on field trips with mega-bitch over here?”

 

“It’s… complicated.”

 

Chloe scoffed. “Of course it is. Good job I got myself a hand-held de-complicator right here. Spill.”  


“Could you put the gun down first?”

 

“Not till your rich bitch friend over drops hers. And maybe grovels a little while she’s at it.”

 

Max was, quite frankly, amazed that Victoria had kept her mouth shut this far. What was more amazing was how she held her cool and holstered her evoker to accommodate Chloe. Max took this cue to stand in front of her, right in the line of fire.

 

“Relax Chloe, it’s not even loaded.”

 

She lowered her gun, approaching Max with purpose. She was sure the bluenette was going to slap her, maybe multiple times. Instead she found a pair of arms wrapping themselves around her body, drawing her in for a tight, warm hug.

 

“It’s good to see you Max.”

 

She returned the hug. Chloe was practically crushing her. Some things never changed.

 

“You too, Chloe.”

 

Victoria cleared her throat after a short while, reminding the pair that she was still there, “I hate to break up this happy reunion, but we need to get moving before midnight.”

 

“What are you a werewolf now or something Max? That would explain why you never called…”

 

Max did an internal facepalm. This was going to be a rough night. She did feel a bit lycanthropic though, what with the midnight superpowers.

 

“Please, Chloe. I’m sorry. I’m shit, I know, I should have called-”

 

“Damn straight you should have. Or am I too common for you now?” she shot Victoria a look that could freeze Hell over and then some.

 

Victoria cracked her knuckles. Loudly. “I’ve tried to be civil. Get her in the car now Maxine, or we go with plan B,” she threatened. And from the looks she was sharing with Chloe, Max knew she would feel no remorse over ramming a needle in her neck.

 

“Look Chlo,” Max placed a hand on her shoulder. “We gotta go. Really. I’ll explain later... and probably apologize some more. Just, trust me. Please?”

 

There was a brief staring match between Chloe and Victoria as they sized each other up. Max could feel the temperature practically drop around them. But Chloe relented first, brushing Max’s hand aside.

 

“Fine, I’ll come with. I just gotta grab some things from my car. Wait here.”

 

She scampered off before waiting for a response.

 

Victoria gave Max a knowing look. “Good friend, huh?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, I guess.”

 

Vic chuckled. “Wow.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“When’d you last see her?”

 

Max’s brow furrowed. “Five years. Why?”

 

Victoria opened her mouth to respond, but either thought better of it or couldn’t be bothered. Instead she just shook her head and said: “Nothing.”

 

Awkward silence reigned once more until Chloe returned minutes later. She never said what it was she went back for. She didn’t need to, because as soon as she appeared she yelled: “shotgun!”.

 

Max braced herself for the Hell. But it never came.

 

The air grew at once cold and oppressive. The moon grew, tinted green. Movement flickered out of every corner of every eye as many-coloured clouds swirled into the night sky.

 

Dark Hour.

 

* * *

 

“This isn’t right,” Victoria looked skyward, trying to maintain her cool. “It’s too early.”

 

Max checked the time on her phone: 23:38. They still had twenty-two minutes.

 

So why was it Dark Hour now?

 

“I don’t get it,” Max said. “I thought you said this… Dark Hour… wasn’t till midnight?”

 

“Yes,” Victoria snapped. “So something is very, very wrong. We should have time.”

 

“It is midnight, brainiacs,” Chloe stated, holding out her phone as proof. It read 00:00.

 

Victoria took out her phone and checked the time. Her mouth hung open in confusion, and she showed it to Max. Chloe snuck a peek over her shoulder.

 

23:38.

 

“No way!” Chloe yelled excitedly, snatching Max’s phone from her. She held it next to her own for comparison, bringing them close enough to Victoria’s to see all three.

 

23:38. 23:38. 00:00.

 

“You guys lost time!? Did you get abducted? Was it aliens?!” She grabbed Max by the shoulders, enjoying this a bit too much, and looked her straight in the eyes. “Did… did they probe you?”

 

Max brushed Chloe’s hands off her, giving her a disapproving look. “Serious face. We’re in trouble.”

 

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Victoria noted.

 

“Yeah,” Max agreed, pulling out her evoker. “But I refuse to blame it aliens.”

 

“Woah there. Max with a gun?” Chloe grinned. “Looks like I picked the wrong day to quit sniffing glue.”

 

“Mines cooler,” Max replied. “We should get to the car though. I don’t want a repeat of last night.”

 

“There’s no point. Cars don’t work in the dark hour,” Vic stated. “Nor do most electronics really. That’s why your phone freezes.”

 

“But the light from the screen-”

 

“I don’t make the rules. All I know is what…” Victoria trailed off mid-sentence, realization hitting her like a brick.

 

“What?” the other two replied in chorus.

 

“Is what Jefferson told me.”

 

“And?”

 

“And-”

 

This time Victoria was interrupted by something else. A loud squawk, like that of a bird of prey, only deeper and slimier.

 

Shadows.

 

They were easy enough to see - they appeared directly overhead. They looked like large hawks, for the most part. Only there were two things very wrong with them. Firstly, they carried cages in their claws. Golden cages that hung below them, inside of which was a lit lantern, its flame dancing hypnotically. It made them easy targets at least.

 

Secondly, and most unnervingly, the birds were negative. They were completely the wrong colour - like the negative of a photo. Max and Victoria recognised it for what it was instantly, Chloe just reached for her gun instead.

 

“Max…” Victoria shuddered, taking a step back and reaching for her gun. “Persona time.”

 

Max froze in place. She knew exactly where her gun was. She knew she could reach it in a second.  It was right there on her hip.

 

But she couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t respond. Her eyes were drawn to the dancing lights beneath the crows - they were hypnotic, supernaturally so. Max saw images of Rachel Amber’s face in the flames, images of Nathan with a bullet hole in his head. Images of William’s mangled corpse. There was a primal feeling building in her gut; a mixture of fear and anger. Yet as much as she wanted to lash out, to scream and cry, she couldn’t even move..

 

The sound of a gunshot pierced the air, followed by another. But it came from no evoker.

 

Chloe was shooting at the damn birds.

 

Yet amazingly, she hit one of them. And even more amazingly, she dropped it. The bird took two hits, the first ricocheting off of the lantern, the second tearing straight through one of its wings. It plummeted to the floor, liquidizing on contact and turning into naught but a puddle of immobile blackness.

 

“The fuck?” Chloe gasped. She went to fire again, but there was no bang. No bullet. No ammo.

 

“Max!” Victoria’s yell was stern and demanding, full of fear. She held her evoker in her shaking hands, both clasped tightly around it, raising it to her forehead. “P-”

 

Max thought words of encouragement, silently urging Victoria on. Some part of her was still thinking straight. Sadly it wasn’t the part of her in control of her body.

 

“Persona.”

 

There was a loud bang, and a flash of light. A swirling black fog and shadowy roses erupted from the back of Victoria’s head, accompanied by similarly smoke-coloured butterflies. The smoke coiled like a snake, plummeting to the earth in front of her and forming her Persona.

 

Seven identical lizard-like heads were the first things to form. Seven flickering tongues, fourteen unblinking yellow eyes and a shedload of venom-laced fangs. Its body was fat and bulbous, scaled and lined with spiky frills. A hydra.

 

Atop this seven-headed beast rode a skeletal figure, clad in flowing black robes. Its face was hidden beneath a shadowy hood, a pair of bright yellow eyes all that was visible. A bony hand clasped a set of heavy reins. At least now Max knew why Victoria was so scared of evoking. That beast could easily tear you limb from limb and eat you alive.

 

One of the Hydra’s heads reared back and emitted a breath of foul smoke and crackling lightning. The bird holding the light that had Max so transfixed was fried and torn apart mid-air, turning to liquid before it even hit the ground.

 

A warm hand grabbed Max by the wrists and yanked her aside. Chloe.

 

“Max, we gotta run. Safe House. Now!”

 

She needed no further prompting. Victoria helped them pull off a fighting retreat, directing her Persona to obliterate any shadow that grew too close. She made mincemeat of the birds chasing them, however no matter how many she killed, another would take its place. Like space orcs.

 

Max let Chloe lead the way, trusting her instincts to take them somewhere safe.

 

So could have slapped her when they wound up at a run-down shed at the edge of the yard. A shed that didn’t even have a door.

 

“Chloe…”

 

“We can wait it out in here,” she said, leading Max into her den. “Chill, I’ve done it before.”

 

It wasn’t much to look at. Graffiti covered every surface, and random bits and bobs lay around the place - friendship bracelets, photos, letters, bongs. Everything a teenage girl needs to escape reality.

 

The one good thing it did have going for it was that there was only one entrance, which could be neatly plugged by Victoria’s Persona’s bulky rear end.

 

So there the three of them were. Trapped in a tiny shed, surrounded by shadows and blocked in by the ass of a hydra named ‘Harlot’. To make matters worse, pictures of Rachel and Chloe were only inches from a goo-stained Victoria’s feet. The same Victoria whose nose was bleeding from the strain of wielding her Persona.

 

The question on everyones’ minds was an obvious one.

  
_What the fuck do we do now?_


	4. Burn My Dread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team bonds. Questions are raised. Chloe awakens.

****

The matter of what happens next was decided when Victoria collapsed on the floor, exhausted from the strain of maintaining her Persona. Chloe was sitting in a corner far from the door,  beckoning for Max to come join her. She couldn’t just leave Victoria in the doorway now that her Persona was gone though; so she wrapped her arms under Vic’s and dragged her unceremoniously to far wall.

Victoria protested the indignity of the situation, but only a little. Just enough to save face, but not so much so that she wouldn’t get a free ride off of Max.

The tell-tale click of a lighter gave a little lighting to the room for a brief moment. Long enough to see that Chloe was firing up a joint. Max almost didn’t recognize the girl anymore - she’d changed so much. And this discovery made her realize just how little she’d changed herself.

“Would you relax Max?” the bluenette asked. “I can hear your heart beating from over here.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “How can you be smoking at a time like this?”

Chloe took a long drag, tilting her head back to blow smoke upwards. “Easily.”

She offered some up to Max, who immediately refused with a “Yuck.”

 

“You are so cute,” Chloe chuckled. “Some things never change.”

The smoking joint was immediately snatched out of Chloe’s hand by a shaking Victoria, who wasted no time in inhaling deeply and repeatedly before handing it back. Chloe considered kicking up a fuss, but thought better of it. She was even feeling a little sympathy for the girl right now.

Awkward silence reigned for a moment whilst they caught their breaths. Victoria wiped the blood from her nose on her sleeve, which she almost immediately regretted doing. She couldn’t exactly have her minions bring her a towel, so she went rooting for something - anything - to save her sweater from further defacement.

She almost regretted doing so when she immediately stumbled upon a picture of Rachel; posed with Chloe, looking like the best friends in the world. Which was funny, seeing as how she’d never mentioned the girl before.

“What the fuck is this!?” she demanded, waving the picture in Chloe’s face. 

The photo was promptly snatched from Victoria’s hands and folded, a crease forming between the two girls faces. Chloe slipped the photo under her chair and scowled at Victoria. 

“It’s none of your business.”

“That’s Rachel. That makes it my business.”

This moment ranked as one of the most awkward in Max’s life. There she was, trapped between two powerful presences - one rich, mad and uptight; the other run-down, gloomy and carefree. Both seemed to know Rachel, yet seemed to have no knowledge of the other. It was like being trapped in some fucked up love triangle. And Max wanted out.

Unfortunately; the purring, growling and gurgling of the shadows milling around outside made her think twice about going outside. Somehow they were safe in the graffiti museum, despite its lack of a proper roof or door.

Neither of the others seemed to care about this right now though. Victoria loomed over Chloe, waiting for answers. Chloe sat smoking, unrelenting. Max did her best to change the subject to something less sore.

“So what’s the deal with our phones? We lost some time.”

Victoria ignored her, still staring down at Chloe. “How do you know Rachel?”

The bluenette made a point of blowing smoke right into Victoria’s face. “She was the love of my life. Then she vanished. Now I want her back.”

Victoria’s eyes scanned the room. There was plenty graffiti, photos and trinkets that all backed this up. There was no doubt the two were close. Then when her gaze lingered on the ‘missing persons’ posters, Victoria felt a knot in her stomach.

She doesn’t know. Shit.

“So why the fuck do you care so much?” Chloe asked.

Max shared a pained look with Victoria. Neither wanted to say it, to tell her that she was dead, though both knew they needed to. Now really didn’t seem like the place though.

“She was my mentor,” Victoria hesitated. “My partner.”

“Bullshit.” Chloe’s voice was tense and full of rage. No way in hell was  her  Rachel associating with that posh bitch. No way in hell would she hide something like that from her. 

“Truth. She found me like I found you. Now let me save your ass like she saved mine.”

Chloe looked to Max for help. She really didn’t want to have to trust Chase of all people; but if Max said it was okay… maybe it was okay. And if it wasn’t, well then that just gave her all the more reason to tear Max apart for going awol for five years.

“Fine,” she ended up saying. “How?”

As if right on queue, three grotesque, obese hands slammed into the doorway, causing the three of them to jump out of their skin in tandem. The hands grasped the frame with a sickening splintering sound - either the doorway or the bones were giving way, and the blood that smeared in their wake suggested the latter. Whatever monstrosity they were linked to slowly made its way into view. A rocking horse, atop which rode a gargantuan six-armed man; one whose stomach dragged along the floor besides it. The smell that accompanied it was particularly foul; some horrid mixture of body odour, mould and wood varnish.

“I thought you said we were safe!” Victoria yelled, turning on Chloe.

“Well maybe they can smell pretentiousness,” the bluenette retorted, reaching for her gun, forgetting how she’d already spent all the bullets.

The shadow audibly licked its lips, baring pointed teeth. Max cried out for Victoria, and Victoria cried out for Max. Chloe just cried out how she wasn’t high enough for this shit. 

At least they had plenty of time. It seemed that the only way the Shadow could move about was by dragging its bulk by hand. Although there was no doubt that it had murder on its mind.

Victoria looked at the blood that stained her hands and sleeves. “Max. I can’t…” 

It wasn’t Max who acted though. Chloe snatched the evoker from Victoria’s hands, spurred on by the voice in her head, and an intense desire to prove herself better than the rich bitch.

“Persona.”

An eruption of brilliant purple light filled the room. Lotus flowers and shards of lilac-stained glass flew from Chloe’s head, accompanied by a swarm of similarly coloured butterflies. They swarmed upwards, through the holes in the roof and manifesting Chloe’s Persona atop the shed. 

A motherfucking dragon.

Samael, they would later learn its name to be. Red and snake-like; a long, thin winding coil of crimson scales, frills and claws. It had two pairs of tattered wings which, like its underbelly, were the same shade of purple as the butterflies. It cried out as though in pain; a terrifying roar that shook the ground beneath the trio.

A puff of smoke escaped the dragon’s nostrils, signalling the gout of purple flame that was to fill the shed. The fire licked the skin of the trio of girls, leaving them unharmed, though significantly warmed. The Shadow was not so lucky. By the time Samael was done spewing fire into the room there was naught but a grey stain on the floor, and a putrid stench of burnt meat. 

They would never eat bacon again.

The dragon’s head snaked its way through the doorway, nuzzling against a terrified Max’s stomach. She shared a horrified look with Victoria, who looked down at herself to see that a buildup of soot and ash had added to the bloodstains on her jumper.

She really had to stop wearing cashmere on these runs.

And then there was Chloe. She stood upright, gun in hand; acting as though nothing had ever happened. By all Victoria’s accounts she should be unconscious or a gibbering wreck right now - Max sure as hell was when she first awoke. 

So why did it look like she was reading the fucking thing poetry?

Max reached out a hand to stroke the dragon’s snout, embracing its warmth and the safety it offered; then she realized what kind of photo opportunity this was. So she took a dragon selfie, which Chloe naturally photobombed, all the while Victoria reevaluated the life choices that had led her up to this moment. 

This was beyond ridiculous. Now even Chloe was showing her up, and neither of the other two seemed to appreciate how utterly fucked they were. Hell, they were giggling and taking selfies. That said it all. 

So Victoria asked the most natural question one does when faced with a friendly dragon, surrounded by things that want to kill you and a pair of clueless dorks: “Think we can ride on it?”   
  


Chloe’s eyes widened with amazement. “Hella yes! Let’s totally fly to my house.”

And so they left American Rust on the back of a dragon, flying up into the putrid green air and onwards to Chloe’s house. There were no reins or saddle, and thus the three of them held on to whatever was in front of them as though their life depended on it. Chloe’s arms were wrapped around Samael’s neck, Max’s around Chloe’s waist, and Victoria’s arms around Max’s neck - much to her discomfort.

The journey was sound, with no shadows or much of anything getting in the way. Everything seemed to be giving them a wide berth now that they had a dragon with them. The town looked especially eerie in the gloom of night - the random coffins scattered around, the shadows pulsating shadows and cars stopped on bends or crossroads made the place look like someone was having a little too much fun with SimCity. 

As soon as they landed in Chloe’s front garden,she collapsed, blood leaking from her nose and mouth. This caused her Persona to dispel, plonking the three girls rather unceremoniously on the floor as their mount disappeared from underneath them. 

Victoria stood up and brushed herself off, insisting that she was fine. She didn’t look much better than Chloe truth be told, but at least she could stand. In the end Max took it upon herself to escort the other two girls up to Chloe’s room by herself, so she put one arm from each of them around her neck and heading on in. She assumed Chloe’s room was in the same place - the whole house hadn’t changed one bit; they’d never gotten around to finishing repainting.

They stumbled upstairs their way upstairs as quietly as they could muster, but it was hard to be stealthy when you were propping up a girl on either arm. This wasn’t exactly how Max pictured sneaking upstairs in the middle of the night with a girl would feel. Let alone two. It would have been funny, were it not downright unsettling.

At least Joyce was sound asleep inside her coffin. They could make as much noise as they liked, and no-one would hear.

That wasn’t exactly a comforting thought.

They made their way into Chloe’s room, which had changed about as much as its owner. There was graffiti everywhere, not to mention clothes and CDs strewn about the place. The bed hadn’t even been made - Max scolded Chloe mentally before dropping her on the mattress. She arranged her into as dignified a sleeping position as she could and tucked her in gently. She wiped the remnants of blood from her face with a dab of saliva and the end of her sleeve, and said goodnight to her.

Then a pair of arms wrapped their way around Max, pulling her backwards and holding her in pa tight embrace. Victoria rested her chin on the hipster’s shoulder, and sighed. An unexpected gesture; but surprisingly warm and comforting. So she turned around and returned the favour. She wasn’t quite Nathan, but Victoria found safety in her arms.

Enough safety that she soon fell asleep like that. 

Enough warmth that Max soon followed.

Helluva fucking day.

 

* * *

****  
  


Jefferson donned a pair of clear plastic gloves, snapping them on with a practised movement. He glanced once more at his burner phone, making sure he read the message right, before deleting it and turning it off.

XIII. awoke. Accelerate time frame. Don’t fail me again.

The teacher sighed. He despised being used. But the storm was coming sooner than expected, and he knew on which side he needed to stand when it did. For now though, he had to work on assembling the pieces.

After double checking that Nathan was still passed out cold, he opened the padlocked lockers behind his desk. A dizzying array of red folders filled each shelf. Most of them were full of photos - the one labelled ‘IX. Max’ being his most recent addition.

He took one of the blank files, finally giving it a proper name: ‘XIII. Chloe’.

He smiled, enjoying the rush of endorphins and lust at his near-finished project. He almost had a full set, and he’d need to hurry before the storm hit.

**  
Next stop, Kate Marsh. **


	5. After the Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hard truths and mushy stuff. Victoria confronts Jefferson.

Max awoke playing little spoon to Chloe.

She wasn’t entirely sure how they’d maneuvered in to that position during the night - as far as she could remember she’d fallen sleep propped up by Victoria.

Of course.

A shuffling sound from across the room had Max leaping to attention, looking for the source of disturbance. She found Victoria,

“I left my car at the junkyard,” she said, tossing the keys up and down in her hand. “It’s got my bag in it.”

Max yawned, prying herself form Chloe’s iron slumbering grip and standing beside the bed. She stretched again, pushing her arms behind her back as hard as she could.

Something felt off.

It was then she saw her clothes piled on the floor, her bra sitting atop her hoodie and jeans. A flush of red crept up her face.

Victoria stifled a laugh. “You seemed uncomfortable. Not that I blame you.”

“Did you…” Max began, trailing off out of awkwardness.

“No,” Victoria said sternly. “Too weird Max. No matter how much you bugged me to.”

Max opened her mouth, silent with embarrassment. At least she didn’t remember any of it. Though she couldn’t help but feel awkward at the thought of Chloe’s arms wrapped around her, with nothing but a vest to-

_Bad Max. Stop it._

“I’m joking, Max,” Victoria smirked. “I’ll see you in class Max.” She stopped herself. “Or not. What do I care.” She took one more step, then stopped herself again. “Oh, and tell your friend I’m borrowing her car. I need to get back to the junkyard. I’ll leave hers there.”

Max nodded in agreement, not quite protesting until Victoria was out the door. It hadn’t quite hit her that Victoria had intended to take - steal - Chloe’s pickup truck. The sound of a revving engine and the churning of wheels quickly made that reality though.

_Oh._

She looked around the room. Somehow, Chloe was still asleep, and she looked far too peaceful to move or wake up. Max resigned herself to getting dressed, then when that was done looking around the room.

Some things hadn’t changed much; the posters of pretentious bands were still plastered all over the walls, detritus still littered the floor and the vast array of CDs were pretty much as Max remembered them. But then there was graffiti everywhere - emo in some places, anarchistic in others, and downright random at times. The ‘hole to another universe’ in particular caught Max’s eye, as did the Illuminati symbol.

_Can’t hurt to look around_ , Max figured. Chloe had changed; maybe she could try to find some common ground again. That was her excuse for snooping, anyway.

She found a bill from an auto-repair place, with a ludicrous sum of money demanded at the bottom. Add that to the vast assortment of speeding tickets, parking fines and outstanding bills and Chloe was in a whole new world of debt. Though admittedly, some of them were quite well deserved. Parking in a disabled bay was a bit of a dick move from her.

No common ground there then. Max had always been good with her money, saving and squandering for the next console or camera accessory. The sheer amount of debt hurt to even look at.

“Done enough snooping?” Chloe said curtly, sitting on her bed.

Max nearly jumped out of her skin at the interruption. She quickly dropped whatever piece of paper she was holding, berating herself for intruding on her ex-best friend’s privacy.

“Sorry,” she said, looking at her feet. “It’s just… so much is different now. When I look around here, I kinda feel like I’m looking back at what I missed out on.”

“And whose fault is that?” Chloe said snidely.

Max reeled as though struck. Time for the emotional mincing machine. She knew she deserved it. She just had to grit her teeth and take her sentence.

“So why now Max?” Chloe asked, hopping out of bed. “Why come back now? Why hang with Victoria? Why not come see me straight away?”

Max bit her lip. “Seattle sucked hard. Victoria hangs with Nathan, Nathan showed me the Persona. As for that last one… I was embarrassed.”

Chloe snorted with laughter.

“It’s true!” Max said, meeting her eyes. “I knew you’d hate me for not calling or texting for five years. I just… couldn’t live with that. I guess I’d have just rather wallowed than face the truth.”

“Come on Max,” Chloe said, sitting herself down on the bed. “You know me. I’ll be hella pissed and yell and probably insult you a bit, but I can’t not like you. As much as I hate you for leaving, I could never hate _you._ ”

Max hated that the words had to be said, but she was more than grateful for them. “Nor I you,” she said, sitting on the bed beside Chloe. “Thanks Che.”

Chloe sighed. She squeezed her eyes shut, holding her head in her hands. Max could see the water welling in the corners of her eyes. She inched along the bed, closer to her friend. Then she put an arm around her shoulder, and rested her head on hers.

Chloe sniffled, wiping her nose on her hand. “You’re back in my life one day and I’m a fucking roller-coaster of emotion,” she chuckled grimly. “Figures.” Her voice was angry almost, but she made no move away from Max. If anything, she pushed herself into the embrace further.

“I’m sorry,” Max said.

“Not your fault,” Chloe sighed. “Truth is… After my dad died, and you moved, I felt abandoned. Rachel saved my life.”

Maybe it was coincidence, but at that exact moment Max’s eyes were drawn to Chloe’s wrists… to the thick, jagged scars that lay there. Years old and faded, but there. That hit her like brick to the gut.

“Then Rachel left. But you came back,” Chloe smiled faintly. She pushed herself away from Max, standing in front of her. She extended a hand. Max took it, then allowed herself to be pulled up into a standing position.

“Promise me Max,” she continued, locking eyes with her despite the mounting tears of anger. “You’re here to stay. I can’t lose another.”

Max could see the redness, the slight swelling and the tears. “I promise,” she said. She prayed it would be the truth.

Chloe stepped forward again, drawing Max into a tight hug. It was brief, certainly not too long as to be uncomfortable. If anything, it wasn’t long enough. Chloe was pulling away and putting on some music in no time at all. Some sort of indie metal began blaring about the room. It was a bit too heavy for Max’s taste, but by the way Chloe was ‘moshing’ she seemed to be enjoying it.

Then Max remembered something.

“I know this follows hard truths and serious mushy stuff, but…” Max began, taking a step back for safety. “Victoria stole your car.”

Chloe froze mid-movement, her face becoming a picture of tears, confusion and anger. Her brow was furrowed and her cheeks were bright red, but her mouth was open in some sort of agape position. It was almost cute, were it not emanating rage and stained with despair.

“Fucking…” Chloe swore. “Imma kill that bitch. Come on.”

She headed towards the window, climbing onto the desk before it and beckoning Max to join her. “Junkyard, right?”

“Excellent work detective,” Max smiled, taking her hand and hopping onto the desk beside her. “But how are we going to get there? There’s no dragons in the daytime.”

“Pfft,” Chloe snorted. “There’s always dragons bitch. Just none we can ride.”

She made the slightly undignified exit through the window, clambering onto the rough perpendicular to it. Once again she extended a hand, helping Max through and brushing herself down. “We’re gonna walk,” she grinned.

Max gave the look of a deer caught in the headlights. It was freezing this early in the morning, her stomach was rumbling from lack of food and she was quite frankly exhausted. “Walk…?” she groaned.

“You got a camera right?” Chloe said. “We’ll get some good shots of me on the way.”

Max sighed, music still blaring in the background. It would be a long walk. But bearable, with Chloe’s presence.

————————————————————————

Victoria sat in Jefferson’s class, not really paying attention to anything other than the empty seat where Max would sit. For some reason she couldn’t quite fathom, she found herself feeling… disappointed. She really hadn’t expected Max to play the truant. She was impressed. Impressed, but disappointed. It was an interesting mix of emotions.

“’Photography is the simultaneous recognition, in a fraction of a second, of the significance of an event as well as the precise organization of forms which gives that event its proper expression,’” Jefferson rounded off his speech with a quote. Henri Cartier-Bresson, if Victoria wasn’t mistaken.

“But to stage a photograph,” Jefferson continued. “Is not necessarily contrary to this suggestion. The true artist does not snap once and be done with it. No, he - or she, or they -” he said, trying not to look at anyone in particular. “Aim to arrange the subject and their surroundings in order to best capture their truest nature. What lies beyond the mask. With every nature, he learns. He opens a dialogue with the core of the subject.”

Victoria wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with that last spiel. But with the way his eyes lingered on her after he was done talking, she couldn’t help but think he was talking to her.

As if on cue, the bell rang. The familiar scrapes of chairs and shuffles of books and paper ensued as the students made a slow rush to leave.

All except Victoria. She remained seated, taking her time as she placed her pens into her pencil case one at a time. Only once the last person had left did she hurry up her packing away of things, swung her designer bag over her shoulder and she stormed towards the teacher’s desk.

“Explain,” she demanded, slamming her phone upon a stack of papers.

“Explain what?” Jefferson’s tone was neutral. Cold. Standard.

“Explain why you tampered with our phones and almost got us killed,” Victoria seethed. “It had to be you so don't play dumb. Only you had access to our phones, so don’t fucking lie to me.”

Jefferson placed a finger upon the phone, sliding across the paper and towards Victoria. He leaned back in his chair, offering a wry smile. “Nicely done. I assume you’ve informed the others.”

Victoria shook her head, angrily shoving her phone back into her bag. “No. Thought I’d give you a chance to explain yourself first.”

Jefferson shrugged. “I set your phones twenty-two minutes early. Not much to explain.”

“Let’s start with ‘why?’”

“I needed Chloe to evoke,” he explained coldly. “I knew you wouldn’t have it in you, and that Max wouldn’t be enough to fend for the three of you on her own.”

Victoria grit her teeth. The way he showed no emotion as he talked about their lives filled her with repulsion. She so wanted to hit him then and there. But she couldn’t. Not Jefferson.

“Fuck you,” she spat. “Because I did evoke, and yes, I did save their asses.”

Jefferson grinned faintly, only the right side of his mouth moving at all. “Well then, I’m pleased to be wrong for once.”

An awkward silence filled the air. Victoria stood in front of his desk, trying to piece together any form of motive - and answer as to why he would have betrayed them at all.

“I know that look,” Jefferson said, standing. He walked around the table, standing inches away from Victoria. “You can still trust me you know. What I did was necessary. It gave me no pleasure. But I truly do believe it was in your best interest. The team will be all the more powerful with an extra Persona user.”

Victoria looked down, not saying anything. Jefferson’s hand met her left cheek, gently tilting her head to meet his eyes. His hands were smooth and warm; soft even. Moisturized.

“Don’t forget who found you when you first awoke,” Jefferson said, stroking Victoria’s left cheek. “I saved your life then. I wouldn’t harm you now. Not ever. Trust in me, Ms Chase. You owe me that much.”

Victoria shut her eyes, holding back a grimace. She knew he was right. He really had saved her life that day. It had been the only time she’d ever seen his Persona, and hell was it a weird one. But it was also warm and genuine. Like him.

“I know,” she smiled weakly. “Sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been unapologetically long since the last update... my excuses are mostly hospitalizations, graduation and the occasional court case. I have some modicum of stability now though, and the motivation to continue! ^_^ I really hope you enjoy :)


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